Little Things
by RedXRover
Summary: RusGer Porn. Kinda...


I don't own these men.

* * *

This was by far one of Ivan's most favorite things to do. He was certain of it.

If he hadn't known any better, he'd say that Ludwig enjoyed it equally.

Unfortunately, he did know better.

No matter how high Ludwig moaned, no matter how much he squirmed, no matter how much he _begged_ -an increasingly hard thing for Ivan to coax out of the blonde, those pleas, without resorting to foul play such as nipping at the German's oversensitive ears.

No matter how much he _seemed_ to enjoy Ivan's spontaneous need to give a hand job, he would never willingly admit to it.

German pride, lingering from the old days, kept him from any such affirmation.

Still.

Ivan enjoyed nothing more than Ludwig's embarrassment.

Watching him unfold like this was a pastime Ivan rarely had the time to indulge in-or rather, something Ludwig fervently tried to avoid.

Not that Ludwig didn't enjoy it when Ivan _did_ get his hands on him. He reciprocated too zealously to instigate a believable denial.

Simple enjoyment, seeing him like this.

To see the German's authoritarian presence, commanding those around to simply look whenever he entered a room...

To see it fall apart uselessly, because Ludwig was powerless in the Russian's grasp.

The little things like that.

Like Ludwig's pretty golden hair in a mess. Golden head.

Ivan's little Golden head, panting, sweating, red. Bucking into his hand...

It always started with Ludwig's mouth. The hard line of his soft, (a word Ivan would apply to Ludwig generously if at all) moist lips would frown only slightly and Ivan would feel compelled to kiss away that frown, gently at first.

Soft kisses would turn to hard kisses and hard kisses would turn to bites; a tug of Ludwig's lip between his teeth. While the poor German was distracted by that, Ivan would push him down and work on ridding him of his shirt.

Ludwig would try to break the kiss or push him away with the flimsy excuse of paperwork or something equally unimportant-something that could wait as far as Ivan was concerned-but that was always when Ivan would apply his foul play. A tricky little secret he'd learned by accident once, -and he'd take his lover's ear lightly by the teeth.

It would be easy, after that. The shirt first, and then the pants and Ivan would make sure to drag out his actions slowly so that Ludwig had time to think about what was coming, time to want him, time for impatience and cooperation.

Then when his German- _his_ , by God-was invested enough to let out the first of many to come moans, Ivan would grin against his neck and wrap his hand around his partner's cock.

Ludwig would gasp and squirm, his feet trying to find purchase on the too slick sheets and he'd do all in his power _not to thrust up_ and he'd fail miserably.

He would gasp again when Ivan took the time to move his thumb from the underside of his erection to the slit, and he would spread his legs more, chest heaving.

And Ivan would ask softly, if not innocently, "Faster?"

Poor stubborn Ludwig wouldn't answer at first, not until Ivan slowed and threatened sweetly, "I could stop..."

"No!" The German, wide eyed would dart a hand out to grip at Ivan's wrist as if to keep it moving there himself.

Ivan would laugh and his slow pace would slow even more, teasing and not at all the proper way to send him off.

"Ivan." Ludwig groaned. "Please-stop... Stop _stopping_." A frustrated hiss.

"Look at me." Ivan would demand in a sharp voice and Ludwig would.

Seeing those blue eyes, looking but not seeing, lost in lust would provide the Russian with a bit of self satisfaction. He would purposefully rake his eyes down his lover's body and quicken his strokes.

Ludwig would jerk and pump his hips, thrusting into Ivan's grasp until the Russian presses himself firmly against the blonde and leans down to connect their lips.

Ludwig's cry of release would be swallowed and the shallow panting that followed would be drown out by Ivan's murmurs of sweet nothings and promises of, "You did beautifully."

"I hate it when you do that." Ludwig would mutter.

"The mess you've made says otherwise, _g_ _olubchik_."

So it goes.

The little things.

* * *

Ahhhh this was originally supposed to have something along the lines of plot but then my finger slipped and _whoops_ -porn. Ta da. Chalk full of my headcannons... Anyways I don't ususally post smut so I apologize for this being crappy at best. For TheGeniusLackingInMotivation :) I love you, deary.

Also, Russian: Golubchik = Little dove


End file.
